<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Love is fatal(won’t you give it a chance?) by cowyoga</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29484159">Love is fatal(won’t you give it a chance?)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowyoga/pseuds/cowyoga'>cowyoga</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Men's Hockey RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Infidelity, Implied Sexual Content, Infidelity, M/M, but - Freeform, for the situation they're in, i warned you, in a way that theyre happy alright, mentions of real life characters and family members, please, shitty people with shitty life choices that i somehow root for</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:14:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,922</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29484159</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowyoga/pseuds/cowyoga</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonny is ruining his life at a point where he's way past the discussion of making mistakes and learning from it and growing up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews, Patrick Kane/Other(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Love is fatal(won’t you give it a chance?)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If you're either Jonathan Toews or Patrick Kane. please go back. </p>
<p>A reminder that this is all fictional, and it's personally been fun and heartwarming to see Patrick Kane as a dad. He's got the cutest baby &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jonny wonders when he stopped being Captain Serious in the public eye, the time he first laughed at a joke in front of a camera and united hundreds of fingertips to type—"So Toews does smile." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The media still plays it up—it's still a selling point, something to keep him interesting, giving him a personality by claiming he lacks one. And he's always been too mature for his own age, everyone will agree. 'Jonny? He knows how to take care of himself.' and he believed it for years, stood by it, made it into a personal identity that feels so </span>
  <em>
    <span>real. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It helped him for years. Prevented him from acting upon instincts that will eventually cause a downfall. And that's why he never followed Patrick to Biel, even when Patrick begged; embarked on a pivotal relationship with a girl he never learnt to love, and convinced himself for years that he actually tried; stayed sober on days when Patrick decided he wanted to cause havoc—because...because if he hadn't, he would have given up to that deep-rooted desire that Jonny is sure Patrick would regret later when he wakes up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But it stops being an honour to be an honourable person when there's another life involved—someone who's permanently bound to Patrick, who already means the world to him. Someone Jonny can't ever compete. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So he stops pretending. It took years to crumble down his wall, he was contented to living a decent man, satisfied himself to being a person Patrick probably wants to fuck, but will leave immediately when things go wrong. Jonny had a good run averting himself from the surely excruciating pain. This time, though, something so real actually exists—he's losing Patrick in the most proper way. And gone will the 'will they or won't they', and Jonny wouldn't even be a part of Patrick's 'what ifs' anymore because he now has something permanent. A person who Patrick will look at the end of the day and would think "it's all worth it", an unbreakable bond that will reduce Jonny to a "what the hell was that?" when Patrick's retired and dropping his kid off to school. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After the drop of pretence comes the action. So what if Jonny kissed Patrick after the first skate of the year in the empty lockers of Fifth Third Arena. So what if he finally lets Patrick into his home, into his room and into his body when he's already 32 and is supposed to be at his most mature. So what if he wasn't even sure Patrick would wake up that day and won't scream at him and tell him it's all a mistake. So what if he's ruining his life at a point where he's way past the discussion of making mistakes and learning from it and growing up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He finally gets to have what he so badly wanted at 20, seeing Patrick on the stage—forgetting him—holding an award that could arguably be Jonny's too, and realising there was no jealousy there at all. Just plain happiness, overwhelming pride at seeing Patrick with all his curls, talking about his </span>
  <em>
    <span>three beautiful sisters</span>
  </em>
  <span>—unashamed affection that's so unanticipated in older brothers his age. Patrick owning up to his smaller size— a seemingly humble acknowledgement that's actually his way of saying "fuck you" to every single person who doubted him. And right at that very moment, Jonny had realised he's </span>
  <em>
    <span>in too deep, </span>
  </em>
  <span>with this boy, heightened up by a stage he so rightfully deserved to be on. There was no stopping what he felt, only registered in his young mind that he could always stop himself from actually acting it out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny did it for 12 years, it's time he stops being strong. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny watches Patrick get dressed, picking up clothes from last night discarded on the floor. Jonny can't tell what Patrick's thinking, it's new—not being able to recognise Kaner's thoughts by the little quirk of his face, or the stiffness of his body. It's an ability that's vanished along with his sanity. Jonny sometimes misses it, but he'd rather have this: the delicious drag of Kaner's cock against his walls, the mark on his neck that will remain for a day or two, the mess on the sheets that should probably gross Jonny out, but no, he'll sleep in it for a few more hours after Kaner leaves and reminisce. He'll jerk one off before everything comes crashing down and the guilt will hit and eat him up all over again. Jonny will scramble to the laundry room and will put too much detergent in the washing machine, and he'll scrub his body a little too hard with the brand new loofah and throw it away afterwards. It's a routine he's long memorised every time Kaner comes over. It never gets tiring. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick kisses him before he abandons Jonny's room and the mess they've made. Leave it all for Jonny to clean up. Jonny knows Patrick is gonna linger a little longer to put himself together in the living room before he heads out home, to his </span>
  <em>
    <span>son, </span>
  </em>
  <span>to his </span>
  <em>
    <span>wife. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny looks at the time on his phone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>17.33</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny sings a song in his head, a lullaby he watched Patrick learn, and claimed that put his baby to sleep before he could even finish singing it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He opens his eyes, and he's met with the bright 17.36 of his phone. Jonny chuckles at Patrick's luck. This is all it takes for his kid to sleep? He's sure others have it worse. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny's phone starts ringing, and calling him is Patrick. His need of Patrick </span>
  <em>
    <span>Patrick Patrick</span>
  </em>
  <span> makes him swipe his thumb horizontally across the bottom of the screen before the confusion of why Patrick is even calling him when he just left hits. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Pat?" Jonny sounds too hopeful for no reason why. He doesn't know what he's expecting for, but his body vibrates with excitement. For whatever it is. Because it's Patrick.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey." Jonny can hear him breathing heavily, the sound nostalgic of what Patrick is when he's over Jonny, bending him in half, forcing the bed to creak with his every thrust into Jonny's hole. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm in my car," Patrick continues, voice a little shaky. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny hums because he doesn't know what to say and he's sensed that Patrick's not done. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm in my car, still in your driveway," Patrick repeats, "Amanda won't be home. Her parents picked her up to stay the night at their place so they can meet the baby." Jonny's breath hitches. It doesn't make sense, cause they can just stay here, in the comfort of Jonny's house in the suburbs where they always start and finish. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"We can just stay here," Jonny voices out what he's thinking, and he swears he's heard the lightest of whimpers on the other side of the phone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I just—"Patrick stops. And Jonny waits and waits and waits. He's not the one hanging up, will never be the one to concede defeat at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>lack of words. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"There's a new mattress in the guest room," Patrick speaks again after a prolonged pause, "maybe we could try its durability or something." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It's an obvious joke, and Jonny should be fucking laughing at it. But it's so sad, and he feels like crying again for what he's become. Because he's said "yes" to it faster than a lightning bolt. Jonny weeps at the rapid speed he's put his clothes on, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual</span>
  </em>
  <span> running to Patrick's car, his heart sobbing at the desperation. Jonny's so fucking ashamed of himself that everything stops being funny. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick lays him on the fresh linen sheets, it's soft against his skin, a gentle friction every time he moves. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick starts leaving kisses on his neck, sucking every now and then, adding up to the bruises he left on Jonny's skin last night. Patrick holds him down by his shoulder, shifting Jonny's body the way he wants to. And Jonny surrenders to it, he's nothing but a canvas for Patrick to mark on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick's not really doing anything significant—not in a hurry at all—as he settles into simply kissing Jonny's lips and anything he can reach without releasing where his strong grip is detaining Jonny to one spot. Jonny mewls in impatience and Patrick shushes him, lips against the skin of his ear, "I've got you. Let me just—. I just really need—" fragmented sentences confusing Jonny to the core. Still, he notices himself nodding at whatever Patrick wants. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny doesn't know how long time has passed, but he's still here, rooted in the same place from earlier, eyelids closed as Patrick repetitively drops lingering kisses on them. The smacks of his lips against the skin are quiet and serene. Jonny doesn't deserve to go to heaven—but he's in one right now, lying in the cloudy whites of Patrick's brand new sheets. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everything feels sacred, Jonny's so lost in this sudden paradise that he fails to hear the creak from the opening door. But he does hear Amanda shout, Patrick hears it too as he scrambles away from Jonny. Blue eyes filled with </span>
  <em>
    <span>fear</span>
  </em>
  <span> as he runs after her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny doesn't know what to do, heart beating dangerously fast, his lungs unable to catch the breaths he so desperately needs. The most fucked up thing is—he's not scared because he just ruined a family, he's scared because that was the last of Patrick he'll ever have. Jonny still has parts of his heart Patrick hasn't even put a dent yet, he thought he'd still have more time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny hails a cab barefoot on Walton Street. He refuses to cry, not on these busy streets in front of people who know him. The driver looks at him weirdly, but it's nothing compared to what will be coming for him in the next few days. Amanda—she's going to tear Jonny apart, she's been unknowingly doing it for the past 8 years, but this time she'll surely skewer him to death, and Jonny won't blame her. Patrick—that was it, Jonny's lost him for good now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jonny loves him so much, fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the ride becomes a blur when his mind is troubled with fears, and his eyes are filled with tears. Jonny pays for the taxi a little too much more than necessary and opens his house door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This is supposed to be his safe-haven. This big, huge, </span>
  <em>
    <span>empty </span>
  </em>
  <span>house—but everything is smeared by Patrick. Everywhere he looks is a torture to his heart: the dirt on the wall by the couch, when Patrick would hoist his bare feet against the wall on those rare times he'd actually stay longer to watch some TV, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>do normal friend things, </span>
  </em>
  <span>after fucking Jonny's brains out. The smudge in one of the cushions on the couch, a red blot of spaghetti sauce that had fallen from Patrick's fork. The gouge in his kitchen island from when Patrick slammed his skate on the tiled surface during a verbal fight with Jonny. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick's everywhere in his house, and everywhere on his skin. The subtle dry of saliva from his kisses, and the gape of Jonny's hole still sore from much earlier before everything went crashing down. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny showers and scrubs his body down until he's bleeding, the hot water stinging the fresh tears and rips on his skin. Jonny doesn't cry—because this is nothing to the maiming his heart is slowly and slowly succumbing to. He's not going to last long, he thinks, soon he'll decay and be a walking rotting fucked up. And Jonny only has himself to blame. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sun has finally set, and Jonny sits stoically in one of the couches. He's so drained to even turn on the lights and be visually reminded of all the traces Patrick's left—so he sits in the dark, quiet except for Jonny's every sniffs, but that's it, he's already sobbed his heart out in the cab. Jonny distinctively hears the car pulling up in his neighbour's driveway. The opening of the door and the childish screams of "Daddy!" "Daddy's here" "Carry me, Daddy!" reminds Jonny of the future he just deprived of Patrick's son. It's a further laceration to something already damaged beyond repair. So Jonny continues his silent cries.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The bright light of the sun through his window burning up his face wakes him up. His breath gets stuck on his throat when he sees Patrick sitting in the chair across from him. "Pat, what—" he can't find the words to say. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is he here to officially break things off, because that would be unnecessary. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jonny's not a total dumbass, he knows when he's no longer welcomed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Why did you sleep here?" Patrick frowns, his eyes are hazy, and Jonny's not sure if Patrick really knows where he is. He shouldn't be here. He should be in the city, avoiding Jonny and leaving him without closure. It's fine, Jonny gets it. Has it coming, really. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny wants to get to the point, but since Patrick's here anyway, he lingers. He answers Patrick's question to lengthen the conversation, Jonny grasps on every bit of attention he can get. "I was just here last night. Didn't even know I fell asleep" That was a lie. Patrick's cum still surrounds the sheets, the smell of sex in his bedroom tingling his nose uncomfortably. And he'd really rather not sleep in any of his guest rooms anytime soon, he won't be reduced to being a visitor in a house he's purchased on his own. Jonny refuses to be someone to test out the mattress, not here, not in his own home. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"It's over," Patrick whispers, and he looks worned out just by letting a few words come out of his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I know," Jonny tries his hardest not to crack. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He knows, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but it still manages to be a blow. "You can go now."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What?" Patrick cries out—in disbelief. And this one, Jonny doesn't get. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Not even a second later and Patrick's features smooth out, he's shaking his head—"No." Patrik's voice is firm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Fuck. No." Patrick starts striding on to him, and Jonny's ass is still planted on the couch. See? Patrick's trace is everywhere, and they've all teamed up to trap him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick crouches down by Jonny's knees, and he's crying. Jonny can discern the quiver of his shoulders, and he wants so badly to cage Patrick in his arms so he can ground the shaking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Do you even know why I invited you over to my place yesterday?" Patrick carries on before Jonny can answer him, bringing Jonny's hand into a tight squeeze. "Amanda and I—"Jonny cringes at her name. "—we fought over buying that mattress. Cause the old one's still good. But I just," Patrick pauses to take a deep breath, looking up at Jonny vulnerably. "I needed to have something that hasn't been tarnished by anyone else. I needed to have something that I </span>
  <em>
    <span>own </span>
  </em>
  <span>that's only been touched by you."  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You deserve so much more, I know," Patrick lets out a sombre laugh, "but it's something, and I want us to have that. I want to have that. I wanted to fuck you in that mattress, knowing you're the very first one."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny's wracked with sobs, he's not—he's </span>
  <em>
    <span>getting</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. He's feeling what Patrick is trying to convey. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Do you get what I'm trying to say here?" Patrick asks, cupping his cheeks, and Jonny nods. "I love you, and it pains me that I could only give you leftovers of me. It haunts me at night, Jonny. I wanted to give you my everything, and I couldn't do that. I didn't have anything that I can only share with you. It's torturing, not having something new to offer to you because you deserve everything, my love." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny gathers Patrick into a kiss—it's so messy, and they are wet all over, but oh God, Patrick loves him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, Patrick loves him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I love you, too," Jonny pants into the kiss, "for a long time now, and so much it scares me."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You don't have to be afraid now." Patrick's tone adamant, embedding the unswerving promise in his eyes through Jonny's own. "I'm with you."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He's waiting for someone—Amanda or anyone to come out of the blue. He's on edge because, in the back of his mind, he can vividly imagine Patrick laughing at him and revealing it all to be a joke. And then Amanda would fixate a camera on his face, and post his stupidness online for everyone to see. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But it remains just him and Patrick in the house. And Patrick </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>laughing, but it's with Jonny. Two adults giggling like teenagers in the comfort of Jonny's couch, exchanging kisses like they're a couple of middle schoolers hiding from their parent's strict eyes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The ultimate question eventually is asked between the declarations of love, and the hungry touches on skins. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What about. What about Patrick's baby?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm gonna fight for him," just a bit of doubt creeping Patrick's voice, "I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>fight for him," he repeats loudly this time it echoes around the room, determined. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And it terrifies Jonny that even if Patrick were a lesser man, he'd still take him in. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny and Patrick, they're fading into each other. It's a scary road ahead, but it's also like following a prophecy—like Jonny's meant to be in Patrick's arms no matter what. </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>